Free Guns 'n' Rose by Robert G. Barrett Page A

high alongside the driveway, a metal fence topped with barbed wire the same height behind that, then the concrete buildings that looked just like a modern, maximum-security gaol for young offenders. A small grass circle propping up the flag sat in front of a windowless concrete building with one large, metal gate and a smaller blue door on the left.Les was right on time, but not quite sure what to do, so he cruised slowly up to the gate and started to read a sign bolted to the Besser bricks. He got as far as PLEASE NOTE. VISIT PROCEDURE. IDENTIFICATION MUST BE SHOWN PRIOR TO ENTRY TO THIS CENTRE when the blue door opened and a young bloke wearing jeans, gymboots and a purple Billabong T-shirt, and carrying an overnight bag, stepped out. Les leaned across and opened the door and he climbed into the Berlina closing the door after him.
    â€˜Thanks, mate,’ he said, in a soft, clear voice.
    â€˜That’s all right, James,’ answered Les. ‘My pleasure.’
    A voice crackled over an intercom. ‘Would you mind not blocking the driveway. It’s a turning area.’
    â€˜Yeah, righto,’ said Les, even though no one could hear him with the window up.
    â€˜Ahh, blow it out your arse,’ said George’s nephew, adjusting his seat belt.
    â€˜Yeah, fair enough,’ said Les.
    They drove back up the driveway. As Les slowed down for some speed humps he decided to check James out.
    â€˜So, how’s things? Okay?’
    James turned to Les and started checking Norton out at the same time. ‘Yeah. Not too bad, thanks.’
    James was slimly built, shorter than Les and very, very goodlooking. Neat black hair wisped across two jetblack eyebrows which were set above a pair of lively brown eyes. His nose, slightly flattened though not broken, had a small bump over the bridge. A set of perfect white teeth almost sparkled from a smooth face with asuntan George Hamilton would have envied and a tiny cleft in James’ chin reminded Les of his uncle back in Sydney. James could have been a little grained or worldly-wise from doing time, but if George’s nephew was nineteen, Les rode a skateboard and listened to silverchair. This struck Les as a little curious. Something else the big Queenslander thought he picked up about James made Les chuckle a little to himself as well.
    â€˜Anyway, I’m Les,’ he said, offering his hand. ‘Can I call you Jimmy?’
    â€˜Sure. Why not.’ Jimmy’s handshake was brief but firm as he continued to check out Norton and accepted his open, if maybe unexpected friendliness. ‘Hey, that’s a choice T-shirt, Les. Where did you get it?’
    â€˜Jamaica. Montego Bay.’
    â€˜Fair dinkum? Have you been there?’
    Les nodded. ‘Too right. Yah I nung. Respec, mon. Jah Rastafarri.’
    â€˜Hey, good one, Les.’
    They drove on, picking up a little speed. ‘Yeah, I been there,’ said Les. ‘And I know all about the black problem, Jimmy.’
    Jimmy’s smile faded a little. ‘Oh, really?’
    Norton nodded again. ‘Fuckin’ oath. And I know just how to fix it.’
    â€˜Do you now? And just exactly how would you fix this “black problem”, Les?’
    â€˜Well, if I was running Jamaica, the first thing I’d do is bring back slavery.’
    Jimmy was incredulous. ‘You’d what?’
    â€˜Bring back slavery. Shove ’em all back in chains and flog the shit out of them and work the cunts intothe ground. That’s all they’re good for, the lazy black bastards.’
    Jimmy gave Les a double, triple blink. ‘You’re fuckin’ kidding.’
    Norton shook his head adamantly. ‘No way, mate. And back here, the first thing I’d do is shove a bomb under ATSIC and blow it to the shithouse. Then shoot the lot of the whingeing bastards.’ Norton looked evenly at the horrified look on Jimmy’s face. ‘Well, not really. What I’d